Take Me Back
by LittleSixx
Summary: The letter that Bucky Barnes never sent.


I miss ya, Stevie.

War is sorta like home. It ain't New York, but I feel like I belong here. Like I'm good at something and doing something right, but I feel like something's missing. I keep looking over my shoulder for somebody that ain't here. I live in the constant dichotomy of deafening blasts and unnerving quiet. The only thing worse than the explosions is the unsettling silence that follows. I wish you were here because I'm always steadier when you're around. Today is one of those days where I miss New York more than I like being a soldier and just want to go home.

Take me back, Steve,

To June, when we ate too many hot dogs at Coney Island and you kept watch while I upchucked into the bushes. You coulda been riding rides, spending our last quarters, but ya didn't. You said brothers don't leave each other alone in their time of need. I laughed so hard some of the vomit came out my nose. Hell, I'm laughing right now just thinking about it. Brothers. Ya never really understood, Stevie, and I just wish I woulda told ya.

Take me back, Steve,

To May, when New York is perfect. It ain't too hot or too cold, we could just sit on the roof, listen to the Dodgers game and drink that cheap Ballantine's shit. I hated it but never told ya because it was the only stuff you could drink without falling over after one bottle. Warm air and even warmer beer, there were so many times I thought I should do it. Lean over to ya and see if Ballantine's tasted any better on your lips … I mean, nobody was looking. Did it count if there was nobody around to see? I just wish I'd'a done it once.

Take me back, Steve,

To April when there was all that goddamn rain. I loved coming home to see you wrapped in towels, shouting about how the storm was ruining your murals. That was when you had work and we weren't worried about every penny. I'd been out with a lotta dames, but there was nothing I ever found more adorable than you with your face all scrunched yelling about how the WPA was fucking up your artistic integrity. I wish you were here to yell at me about it now.

Take me back, Steve,

To March when we snuck into that club down on Grand and got so drunk we nearly fell off the bridge on the walk back. March was always good for laughs with you, nothing better than Steve Rogers on St. Patrick's Day. I hate myself for loving that, for getting you drunk more than I shoulda done. I hated myself every morning when I woke up to you vomiting in the bathroom, worried I'd finally gone too far and you'd choke or go into an asthma attack. I only got you drunk because of all those times I caught you looking at me the way I know I look at you when you ain't looking. Maybe if you were drunk enough you'd say what I always wanted to hear. I wish I coulda asked you myself, but you were always more courageous than me.

Take me back, Steve,

To February when you didn't have a dame on Valentine's. I had a date with Linda, took her out to dinner. We stayed at her parents' place, fucked, and I missed you the whole time. I felt like such a bad friend, leaving you alone. I just didn't like how it looked, ditching a dame to stay home with you, Stevie. It wasn't wrong and I woulda been with you if you just asked. I wish you woulda asked me to stay.

Take me back, Steve,

To January when you got fired from delivering papers. I wrapped you up in five blankets on the couch. God, you were shivering so bad. I hate our apartment, hate that we can't keep it warm enough in the winter. There were nights you were turning blue and I just wanted to crawl under the blankets and wrap my arms around you. To keep you warm, of course. Not … Not for other stuff. But I woulda done other stuff. I wish I wasn't so afraid.

Take me back, Steve,

To December when I got you those fancy pencils for Christmas. You opened them and didn't stop drawing until 1943. Your determination is what I love about you more than anything else. You drew me a picture of the skyline from our roof and I keep it with me all the time. There are moments when I feel like I may not make it out of here, then I look at that picture and remember what I have to get back to. You keep me going, Stevie. I wish I wasn't so afraid.

Take me back, Steve,

To November when you got sick. That sinus infection put you out for two solid weeks. Sometimes I thought you were gonna throw yourself out the window because breathing was so hard. You hated needing me like you did, and I had to remind you that I am always with you. To the end of the line, Steve. You are never a burden and when you got better it was like the world got brighter. New York needs ya, and I need ya, too. I hope you don't get sick again until I get back, even though we both know you will. I hate not knowing what's happening to ya and I think about the last time I saw ya every fucking day. Part of me, Stevie, part me wishes you woulda asked me to stay.

Take me back, Steve,

To October when I pulled that no-good fucker off'a ya behind that shop. You never stayed down, no matter how big the guy was kicking your ass. You said it was what your ma taught ya. Always stand up because they can't punch back forever. When I asked how you had any hope to win, you told me everybody's got a weak spot and ya just gotta find it. I've been waiting years for you to figure out that you're mine. You are fire, Steve, and you'd break your neck just to keep your chin up. Did you ever feel the same as me? I wish I coulda asked you myself, but you were always more courageous than me.

Take me back, Steve,

To September when you caught me coming out of the shower in nothing but a towel. I remember every bit of it, how you face-planted into my chest. How neither of us moved for a full second and how much I wanted to just hold you there, your cheek to my heart. Then you jumped back like I burned ya. You couldn't look at me and I couldn't stop staring at you, hoping you finally understood what was happening in my mind. In my heart, too, and in one other part of me that suddenly woke up. That's why I ran into my room. You never woulda forgiven me if you knew just how much I wanted you. You yelled at me later that afternoon, tried to convince me it was somehow my fault. I wish you were here to yell at me about it now.

Take me back, Steve,

To August when we were in the park eating ice cream. I remember your delight because you'd just been hired by the paper again to do deliveries. It wasn't anything big, you were just licking your ice cream, but my eyes followed your tongue the whole way. It was too much after a few seconds and I had to look away. I remember how your tongue looked as it swiped over the crown of the top scoop and I think about it a lot. At night. In bed. That was the moment I realized I am in love with you. Goddamn strawberry ice cream, I wanted to kiss ya just to see if I could taste it. Ya never really figured it out, Stevie, and I wish I woulda told ya.

Take me back, Steve,

To July. Your birthday. Twenty-four. You've been through so much in twenty-five years, now, and you still want to give more of yourself to help everyone else. I met lotsa men out here who think they're dedicated but they'd drop dead after half the shit you've been through. I hope you never lose that, I hope your fire never dies out. Your heart causes you so many problems but it's the best thing about you. You're the reason I pray, Stevie. I pray for your health and that I make it back to New York to see you again. You need to know that I love you, and I just wish I woulda told ya.

Keep your head up, Steve.

-Bucky


End file.
